


Dirt and (star)Dust

by friends_call_me_wobbly_hands



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (but not for long), Agender Chara, Agender Frisk, And a lot of issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, EMOTION EVERYWHERE, Friendship, Frisk's nickname is Riskie here btw, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kiddos Have ADHD, Kids That Have Seen Some Shit And Do not Know How To Handle It, Least Of All In A Healthy or Mature Way, Selectively Mute Frisk, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Tumblr Chronicles, another series of drabbles from my tumblr, anyway, emotion, flowey has a soul, just a heads-up, lots of good times too, lots of suffering, related to a blog-specific event, risky friskie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friends_call_me_wobbly_hands/pseuds/friends_call_me_wobbly_hands
Summary: Frisk gets a request from an old friend of theirs, one day. None of them know where that request will take them - or, to be more precise, when. But that's the deal with good intentions; sometimes the only thing they fit for is paving the road, and you don't want to follow that particular road for too long.





	1. Chapter 1

The child is sitting on the porch, lazily kicking their feet in the dirt. The sun is bright. The air is warm and a bit humid. Withering sunflowers nod to their thoughts at the fence as the wind passes them in slow waves.

_I have an idea_ , I say to them.

Riskie looks up at me, then pats the wood next to them. I ‘sit down’ to indulge them. 

[ WHAT KIND OF? ] they sign. Not a speaking day? Probably. Or maybe they simply don’t want to alarm anyone by speaking to thin air.

_Asriel_ , I tell them.

Their hands still, then come to grip their sweater where their Soul beats - steady, strong. Determined.

[ COME AGAIN? ] They frown, confused. [ THOUGHT HE WAS GONE. ]

_I thought I was gone too_ , I say. _But I am here._

[ YES, YOU ARE. ] 

_Maybe he is around, too,_ I say. _Maybe there is a way to bring him back like I was brought back._

Their hand comes to rest on top of where mine should be, for just a moment.

[ HOW? ]

_I do not know yet,_ I say. _I have an idea. But I do not know yet. I do not._

They stay silent, still frowning.

_I just want my friend back,_ I say. It comes out too quiet. _I just want my brother back. I just want to see him one more time._

[ WHAT HE WANTS? ] they say.

_Come again?_ I ask now, perplexed.

[ IS IT WHAT HE WANTS? ]

_Yes. …I think._

[ MAYBE WE SHOULD ASK HIM FIRST. AND. WE SHOULD TELL HIM, ABOUT YOU. ]

_What?! No. No way._

[ MAYBE THAT WOULD BRING HIM BACK. ]

_How?_

[ THE LOST SOULS. ]

_…Oh._

[ YOU COULD REMIND HIM. OF WHAT HE WAS. ]

_…He will hate me._

[ YOU DON’T KNOW THAT. ]

_Yes, I do._

[ NO YOU DON’T. ]

_This is getting nowhere._

[ BECAUSE WE ARE NOT WALKING YET. ]

I snort. _Okay,_ I say. _Then let us get moving._

[ WILL YOU TALK? TO HIM? ]

_No! …No. Well. Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s just get there first, okay?_

[ FINE. ] They stand up and sneak in to grab their backpack. They do not bother telling anyone where they are going, just as always. Toriel will be angry. But later. It does not matter now.

We are going.

We are going home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up: On my blog, the post-pacifist Flowey keeps one of the human souls Asgore has gathered - the cyan one, actually. That means he can feel again, but he still turns into a flower.

We are walking on the dusty road. Almost out of the town. The mountain looms ahead, not so far. Just a few hours’ journey. Riskie is a good walker.

[ WHAT WILL YOU TELL HIM? ] they ask, grinning.

_It is not a match-making TV show,_ I say. _Have some dignity._

[ I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS. ]

_Touche_.

[ STILL. ]

_I do not know._

[ ‘LOOKING GOOD THERE’ IS A GOOD START. ]

_No, it is not._

[ SO IT IS. ]

I do not say anything, preferring to stare at the mountain ahead. I allow my mind to wander.

Maybe that is why I miss them coming.

There are just five of them, and maybe this is why I do not notice the danger at once. We only see them when we are cornered. 

Riskie tries to run, but one of them blocks the way. They blast their fists into his gut and then, while he is busy gulping air, they kneel him into the crotch and try to flee. 

Somebody grips their hair from behind and jerks them back into the circle. The opening is no longer there, there are four of them, we have no time to get the knife out -

Riskie screams and tries to punch somebody else, and they have the skills, but they lack force. They only manage to hurt themselves and to further infuriate the attackers. They scratch at the face of the human who is trying to pin them down and they bite on the hands that come near their face, and it is _fighting_ , and it is fighting _dirty_ , 

but it doesn’t matter when one of them takes up a bat.

I see it long before it connects. I scream. Riskie hears me. They start turning around. If they didn’t, maybe they would be just knocked out. Maybe they would be okay.

Instead, the bat connects to their temple.

Something cracks. Something breaks. Something shatters.

They do not feel their body hit the concrete.


	3. Chapter 3

__

_Falling down - down - down_

it is dark so dark around them and it does not hurt anymore but they feel like it should for some reason and the lack of pain bursts inside them as the worst agony ever

_Down, down, down_

they try to grip onto the loose threads but those slip away and something shatters something shatters something keeps shattering something is not there _they are not there_

_Down into the darkness_

they cry for help but no one comes no one ever came and why would they  
they cry and scream and there is nothing and only the void stares back  
something is shattering  
something is missing  
and they are falling  
falling  
 _falling_

_They keep falling down_

but there was a promise and maybe there is not enough left of them to really remember but there was a promise and there was a voice and there was a soul that needed oblivion  
there were _souls_  
there were  
stars shatter all around them and fade into nothing and drown in the blackness and they drown too they drown and keep drowning and keep drowning

_The light is out_

but they do not want to die not yet not yet not like this and they are scared scared _scared_ and they want home home want home they want home home _home_ they want to _live_

_A star is born out of their palms_

it burns  
it burns so brightly it hurts  
hurt is good hurt means live they want to _live_ they want to _hurt_ they want to _go home_  
but something is wrong  
something is slipping away  
something is gone  
and they keep falling  
and stars keep dying around them  
and it is so dark  
dark

 _dark_.

 

.

 

…

 

… …

 

… … …

 

_A human child wakes up on the bed of golden flowers._


	4. Chapter 4

The fallen child opens their eyes.

The fallen child looks around.

The fallen child screams.

The fallen child starts sobbing.

It is a long way up from here. We have to get moving. We cannot stay.  
The golden flowers, they have broken your fall. You have no injuries. You are not dying. That means you must get up. _  
_

_Get up_ , I tell them.

They shake their head _no, no_ , their throat too tight to form a sentence, their hands too shaky to make a sign. They are smaller now, thinner, paler, their palms and knees rough, their hair badly cut. I forgot how they used to look when it all started.

 _Get up_ , I say again.

They only shake their head and bawl harder, snotty and teary and utterly pathetic, and my fists tighten on themselves.

 ** _Get up!_** I shout.

They curl into a ball, pull their knees to their chest and shiver on the flowerbed, like a hedgehog with its spikes out, only they have no spikes and no venom and nothing to protect them from whatever there is.

 _…Get up_ , I ask, softer now.

 _No, no_. They free their hands only to sign, [ NOT AGAIN NO DIE NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN A _YEAR_ HAVE NOT DIED FOR A _YEAR_ NOT AGAIN PLEASE PLEASE _PLEASE_ ], and I have nothing to say, so I let them stay where they are and cry until there are no tears left.

There is a lot of tears, so it takes some time.

 

***

 

The child finally stands up.

Their legs feel stiff. They gulp, clenching their stick. Their palms are rough and covered in scratches. Is it from the fall? I do not know.

[ GO ], they sign, momentarily holding the stick under their arm. [ MUST GO. RIGHT? ]

 _Right_ , I say, because I cannot say much more.

They nod, shiver and take their first step from the flower patch - a bit wobbly, but it will do. They pause to look at the flowers and up at the hole in the ceiling, at the bleak rays of light gliding down.

A single golden star emerges from their hesitant palms.

_The feeling of starting anew… it fills you with Determination._

Frisk groans quietly in denial. [ NO IT DOESN’T, YOU SMART BUTT. ]

_Let’s go._

[ FLOWER? ]

_…Yes. He is next._

[ YOU THINK HE REMEMBERS? ]

_He mustn’t. But. I am afraid he does. And I am afraid he does not. I do not know which is worst._

[ CANNOT SAY IF WE DON’T SEE. ]

_True._

Frisk nods to me and walks on.

Riskie enters the dark purple doors that mark the beginning of their journey.

A flower is already there, waiting.

He smiles at us.

“ _Howdy_!”

 

***

 

“Howdy!” says the flower. He seems cheerful. Smiling. Happy to see them. Riskie knows it is not true. They gulp. Either he simply does not want them to worry, or… or. “I am…”

“Flowey”, they mumble. “Flowey the flower. I. I know.”

Flowey stops swaying and freezes completely still.

“Oh”, he says.

“Do you, um. Remember me?” Riskie asks, unsure, tugging onto their sweater. “Do you remember… anything?”

Flowey hesitates, but then his smile distorts and melts until the kid screams at the sight of his face.

“So there IS something for me to remember, huh?” he asks nonchalantly as the ‘friendliness pellets’ circle the human and their soul, pulsing, frantic, is pulled into view. “And yet you return. What do you want to see here? My suffering?”

“ _Az_ -” the kid squeezes out, but they cannot say anything else before they choke on their words (they do not handle being accused and shouted at too well). Maybe it is for the better, because even that syllable makes Flowey pause and jerk. Then he snarls and throws the bullets into their SOUL -

a wall of flames rises around it, and Riskie, trembling, leans into it. It doesn’t burn.

Flowey screeches as a fireball hits him and sends him flying across the room. Toriel runs closer in the all-familiar haste, already fussing over her new child, and when we look into her eyes, we think we can see the ghost of deja vu, warm and remembering, and we can see it fade away.

_Go on._

_Continue._

_Stay Determined._


	5. Chapter 5

They cannot stay, of course. 

Riskie pauses before the mirror, pressing their palm to the cold glass. Their face is younger, their hair cut in a weird way. They think of kitchen scissors and large hands and a loud voice shouting at them to stop moving. They flinch.

 _Still just you_ , I say, because I cannot think of anything else.

They shrug in an untranslateable way and breathe on the mirror to draw a couple of funny faces on it.

Toriel is reading in the chair. Riskie pauses before reaching out to her. They are signing when they ask how to exit the Ruins. Their hands shake just a little.

It is quick after that, even though Riskie keeps shivering during the whole fight. It is not the danger or the pain that gets them, it is the cold voice and unseeing eyes and a figure looming over them that does not budge or listen, no matter what you do. But it is quick. They hug Toriel before leaving. It is brief, awkward and a bit bitter. Their lips still taste like ash. 

Flowey is not to be seen anywhere.

It is too quick to reach the door to Snowdin.

Riskie pushes it - open, closed. They have to press with their whole body to make it move: heavily, but without a sound. A little snow falls from the top of it to their boots. They forgot to snatch a coat from the dresser, again. 

_The snow smells as fresh as a fresh start_ , I say. They giggle, but not very cheerfully. I do not laugh at all. Somehow it feels like a very wrong place to laugh.

They walk down the all-too-familiar road, hands crossed, hunched over. I hover above their left shoulder. They try to hum but the song is wrong and they keep thinking of _red_ and _white_ and _blue_ so they fall silent completely.

 _Do not be afraid_ , I say. _He has never even hurt us. He is too lazy to capture anyone, is he not?_

RIskie shrugs again, growling. They try to look bigger. Their Soul beats frantically. Yet they advance. 

[ MAYBE HE WILL HATE ME ], they sign with a wry, tired look. [ I WOULD HATE ME, TOO. ]

_You do not know. Maybe he will understand._

[ OR MAYBE HE WILL TELL ME WHAT A BRAT I AM AND HOW HE DOESN’T WANT TO HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH ME. MAYBE HE WILL JUST LEAVE ME. LIKE THEY _ALL_ DO. ]

It is a bad topic, so I drop it and watch the snow.

A branch breaks. Neither of us looks back. 

The bridge rises before us abruptly, and Riskie freezes, not blinking, not even breathing. Snow crunches behind them as someone approaches in steady, heavy strides.

Riskie turns before he can say anything at all.

[ S-A-N-S ], they sign. Their fingers are white and stiff. It must hurt quite a bit. [ SORRY. ]

Sans pauses.

“interesting”, he says, and his expression is slack. Or maybe it is _slacking off_. “don’t remember introducing myself. oh, well. who doesn’t know me? anyway. let us make it formal, here. i am sans, sans the skeleton. only i am still _with_ the skeleton. heh. what? what’s that look for? have you heard that one, before? weird.”

[ SORRY ], Riskie signs, again, and again, and again. They stare at him, still not blinking. Their eyes water from the cold. [ AM VERY VERY _VERY_ SORRY. I DID NOT MEAN TO. DID NOT DID NOT _DID NOT_. SORRY. SORRY. PLEASE DON’T BE MAD. PLEASE. SORRY. ]

Sans looks at them, towering over them just so slightly - and just to think of it, they used to be _taller_ than him by the end of that year - saying nothing at all. He seems to be thinking, _judging_. In the end, he shrugs and chuckles: quiet, dismissing. Closed off.

“hey, kiddo. what are you apologising for? after all… _it’s not like i even know you._ ”

Riskie jerks back, like he has just slapped them. In a sense, he did. 

Sans blabbers about something and runs off to greet Papyrus, just like he should. Riskie doesn’t follow. They press their back to the wooden post of the gate thingy, slip down to the ground, curl into a tight little ball and sit like this for a couple of minutes.

They have to reload after that, because they don’t want to throw things off script too much. They return to the Ruins and push the door open one more time. This time, as Sans comes to them, they don’t talk. They don’t laugh, either. He does not mind at all. He does not look like he has noticed.

Riskie sits behind the conveniently shaped lamp, listens to the voices of their old new friends and thinks of home. Of evenings spent watching bad movies. Of sleepovers. Of cooking sessions. Of everything that is no more and will never be the same. Of everything that is broken just a little more.

 _It is a beautiful day to reminisce_ , I say, because I cannot think of anything else.

They snort. [ STILL DO NOT KNOW WHAT THIS IS. ]

 _Dweeb_ , I say, and they do understand that one and bite down another snort.

Somehow, this makes things a little bit better.


	6. Chapter 6

Riskie’s steps sound like “crunch, crunch”, then - like “splash, splash”. In between those two sounds comes the routine: battles, ball games, Nice Cream cart, puzzles, puns, a mandatory Papyrus battle, a mandatory Papyrus date, an inevitable heartbreak and a new phone number gained. Then, they march to a new location, walking amongst the grass and dirt and mushrooms. The kid does not pay much attention. They have seen it all before.

 _Waterfall_ , I muse. Riskie passes a large waterfall, indeed. _In her house in Waterfall undying Undyne waits dreaming._

[ STOP THIS ], they sign, groaning. [ I DO NOT EVEN LIKE PUNS. ]

_But it **is** funny. Undyne. Undying. _

[ YOU ARE TERRIBLE. ]

_Aw, you are terrible too, Frisk._

[ SHUT UP. ]

I pause. They slouch, their hands tighten into fists, and I flinch. They are probably not angry at _me_ , but they are still angry. _Is it Undyne? She’s not mad at you, you know. She couldn’t have remembered the previous run. It will probably be alright._

[ I KNOW. ]

_It will go smoothly. It helps that you have seen it all. Fewer mistakes, less time taken._

[ I KNOW. ] Their face scrunches. They stop.

 _…Are you scared?_ I ask, and it’s their turn to flinch. Riskie does that thing when they lean forward and turn their face down so their hair covers their eyes. I notice they are shaking a little. 

I sigh.

_…I know there’s Undyne, and then Mettaton, Asgore… so many others, and…I am sorry you have to die. I remember the sensations. It is no fun._

[ I AM NOT SORRY. ]

_What?_

[ _I_ AM _NOT_ SORRY ], they sign again with a scowl, watching me from behind their hair. And maybe _I_ am a bit scared, now. But I remember that face. I remember them plowing through the dust and carrying death wherever they went and striking down monsters with their face set in that exact scowl. I cannot help but get ideas. [ I AM NOT SORRY AT _ALL_. IT SERVES ME RIGHT. ]

 _Oh._ I lower myself a bit and watch their face, but they look away. So they were angry at themselves. Still are. _You couldn’t help it._

[ _COULD_ ], they sign, and their every movement is as abrupt and final as a spit to the ground. [ COULD JUST STAY DEAD. COULD _NOT RESET_. COULD LOOK TWICE. COULD RUN AWAY. COULD FIGHT BETTER. COULD BE BETTER. COULD SAVE EVERYONE. BUT DID NOT. ] 

Riskie hugs themselves, and I stare, numb. They look like they did in the very beginning, again. Whatever fragile confidence and optimism they had gathered throughout that year on the Surface is now gone. In its place, there is only confusion, anger and despair. They are at square one. We all are.

[ DID _NOT_ ], they sign again with a tragic certainty. [ WE COULD BE UP THERE. ALL OF US. MAYBE I SHOULD. GIVE THEM MY SOUL. GIVE UP PROPERLY. IF I CANNOT DO ANYTHING RIGHT. IF I CANNOT NOT RESET. THEY WERE RIGHT ABOUT ME AND I AM A BRAT AND I ONLY HURT OTHER PEOPLE. I AM _TROUBLE_. ]

I am quiet. I cannot speak for a long time, and Riskie starts walking again. I try to loosen my throat. It is surprisingly hard, given that there is nothing to really tighten there anymore. _I am sorry._

[ DON’T BE ], they sign, too sharply, and I try to remind myself again that they are not angry at _me_ , but I fail. They notice my inner struggle and sign again, but now their hands are shaking too, and suddenly I realize that we are _both_ trembling like leaves in November wind, and it is funny in a very bad way, so I start laughing. I cannot stop even as they sit down, hugging themselves, or when they start crying, and - maybe I am crying too, at this point, but who cares. No one even can see it, anyway. 

There is certainly too much emotion happening, I think wryly. 

I manage to stop laughing at some point, and they are more or less fine too by that time, but neither of us feels like continuing on our journey so we just sit down and watch the water. 

[ MAYBE IF YOU GOT A BETTER KID TO GUIDE, EVERYONE WOULD BE BETTER OFF ], Riskie signs, and it is very much like what I used to tell them all the time and it is unfair that they say that. I slap their hand a little, knowing they won’t feel it. 

_Stop that._

[ TRY AND MAKE ME ]. They do not really mean that. They are just angry and hurt and tired and they believe that picking fights is the only way to deal with their problems.

[ AND YOU EAT FLOWERS TO DEAL WITH _YOUR_ PROBLEMS. ]

I jerk away. Sometimes I forget that mind-reading is a two-way road in our case. _…it is true, but you shouldn’t say that._

[ …I KNOW. I AM SORRY. WELL. NOT _NOW_. BUT _WILL_ BE. ]

I snort, despite myself. _We are messed up, are we not._

[ TOTALLY. ]

_…and we **have** messed up._

[ …YEAH. WE DID. ]

 _I… am sorry. For. You know. Well. Not being useful enough. I wish I could be more of help than that. I don’t want to see you die. …Heh. Never thought I would say that to a human._ I stare at the stream at our feet. There is only one reflection there. _Sometimes I wonder why you do not hate me._

Riskie doesn’t ask, but they stare at me with a deadpan expression.

 _If I was a better guide, you wouldn’t have to hurt so much, so often,_ I say. I almost don’t hear myself. _If I was a better partner, you wouldn’t feel so bad. And… if I didn’t carry on with that asinine plan, we both would be still around, me and Asriel. You wouldn’t have to fight anyone at all. We could all be safe. We could all live as a family and be alive, and be free. …You should probably hate me for that. For taking that away from you._

Riskie sighs. [ BUT I DO NOT HATE YOU. I ONLY DO WHEN YOU MAKE STUPID PUNS. AND YOU DON’T MAKE THEM TOO OFTEN. ]

I smile, a little. _So you say some of them are good?_

[ YOU JUST DON’T MAKE MANY JOKES AT ALL. ]

 _Oh. Well_. I shrug. The kid is starting to grin, though, so I smile a little wider. _So I am not punny enough for your refined tastes?_

[ SANS ALREADY MADE THIS ONE ], they sign with disgust. I laugh at their sign for “Sans”: _joke-round_. [ I TAKE IT BACK. I HATE YOU ALWAYS ], but they smile so wide and they look at me in such a way that it’s easy to believe they really don’t.

 _I hate you always too,_ I say, and whatever there is in my face makes Riskie stare -  
and then launch themselves at me, squealing in delight.

And. That is not a great idea, given my incorporeality. Because of course they fly right through me and end up in the stream, and thank gods known and unknown that stream is not deep enough for them to drown because it would not be funny at all and I really don’t want them to die again…

They sit up, all wet and dirty. There is a tiny fish stuck in their hair. They look at me with rounded eyes. I think I do not look any better.

And then we both lose it. We laugh, and it is a very _good_ laugh, it echoes across the cavern and makes the stones reverberate. We cannot keep it up for long because we are already tired from crying earlier, but even that is good. It is a breather. The world seems just a bit brighter now.

 _Despite everything, it is us_ , I say, smiling.

Riskie gets out of the water and flaps their wet hands.

[ _WE_ ], they sign carefully. [ LET’S GO AND SAVE THIS WORLD AGAIN, NOW. ]

I nod, and we set off on our journey again. Their stride is just a tad more steady now, steps a bit wider. They must feel more Determined, too.

But their hair, and the cuts on their palms, and the sadness in their soul - those stay. I sigh. 

I wish I could just take it all back, somehow.


End file.
